


No Rest For The Wicked

by Myrime



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendhip, Gen, Iron Man Bingo 2019, Miscommunication, Nightmares, Only One Bed, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Snowed In, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19743166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: On a secret mission for Fury, Tony and Steve get stranded in a small town during a snowstorm. There is a motel with a free room - only that it has just one bed. While Tony already has fantasies about cuddling with Captain America, Steve takes offense to the idea of sharing a bed with Tony.





	No Rest For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Iron Man Bingo 2019 Round 2](https://iron-man-bingo.tumblr.com/), square: Only One Bed
> 
> More Fluff. I don't know what's happening.  
> Enjoy!

The stairs up to the second floor of the motel are steep enough to offer Tony a nice view of Steve’s backside as they trudge slowly upwards. They are both exhausted, but Tony feels his spirits rising at the sight. No one could say he is not a man easily entertained. It helps that Steve’s trousers are wet at strategically good places to set off his assets even better.

The snowstorm has not exactly hit unexpectedly but became much stronger than anticipated very quickly. Even that would not have been a problem had they been travelling with one of Tony’s cars. They would not have given out in the middle of nowhere like the shitty rental car Fury ordered them to take.

With no phone reception and no tools, they had no other choice but to make the slow trek back to the last village they passed while the sun was rapidly going down. There is a motel, at least, run-down and nothing Tony would have ever set foot in under better circumstances. Now, he is glad they do not have to hope for some random person’s sense of charity or sleep outside. 

The next time Fury asks Tony to go on a reconnaissance and stealth mission, he is not just going to laugh into their not-quite-boss’ one-eyed-face, but run as fast as he can. This has been an utter disaster from the very beginning.

He is Tony Stark, he does not do stealth, even when he is not flying around in a red-and-gold metal suit. At the very most, he pays other people to be subtle, and he usually does not even bother with that. It is often a good intimidation tactic to let people know he is coming, both in business and his superhero hobby.

Yet, here he is, sent by Fury to scope out some facility in the middle of nowhere with Steve at his side, ordered unmistakeably to no attract attention. SHIELD suspects a HYDRA base out here and the bastards are slippery enough to run at the first sign of trouble.

Quietly, Tony thinks that if they are stupid enough to not recognize Captain America, even in flannel shirts, a winter parka, and a woollen hat, and Tony Stark, seriously, his face is everywhere, they do not deserve the title of the bad guys at all. Not that Tony is particularly interested in being found out. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out-again mission.

Then the storm hit. And the car broke down. And now they have to sleep in a mouldy motel in a random village instead of the four-star hotel he reserved rooms for at their destination and had thoroughly checked by some of his employees for its suitability.

Now that he thinks about it, the sight of Steve’s ass makes up for a lot but not nearly enough to dissipate his increasingly bad mood.

When they reach the top of the stairs, Steve turns down the dim hallway, leaving a trail of muddied snow behind. That, Tony thinks, is the clearest indicator that Steve is tired too. Normally, he would have insisted on taking off the shoes at the door downstairs to not make more work for the cleaning staff. This night, he might have still smiled and thanked the clerk for letting them in this late, but has then turned around abruptly, key clutched in his hand.

Their room is at the very end of the hall, and Tony is careful not to audibly sigh when they reach it. They have been driving for hours on end and then walked for another one. He is ready to fall into bed and never think about snow again.

Only that, when he wants to follow Steve into the room, he runs into a solid wall of tense muscles and a certain vibranium shield hidden in a backpack.

“What the –” Tony mutters before he realizes that Steve has stopped walking, right inside the door.

More as an experiment, Tony pushes lightly. His shoulder is smarting from where he hit it against the shield – although he guesses he should be glad it was not his nose.

“This is not happening,” Steve says, clipped and one wrong word away from snapping.

The dire tone has Tony expecting the worst, giant cockroaches or fungi-covered walls. When he nudges Steve to the side to enter the small room himself, he finds a dump – dark and narrow and slightly musty smelling – but not nearly as bad a dump as he has been expecting.

Sure, the wallpaper is a garish brown and white mix with something like swirling flowers on it, and the upholstery of the lone armchair looks like they might get some nasty disease just from stepping too close to it. At the first glance, it is clean, though, and they will not spend much time here anyway. They have to get going again early in the morning.

He glimpses up at Steve, registers the way he clenches his jaw and glares as if the intensity of his stare alone can change the room in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” Tony offers. Distantly, he wonders how he has just now ended up being the voice of common sense. He feels like he should be the one complaining. This room is smaller than his very first dorm, smaller than his walk-in closet at home.

Steve turns to look at him, his glare getting harder. “There’s only one bed.”

That is true, but it is a fairly large bed. Even considering Steve’s size, they will have no problems fitting in it once they get rid of the horrible frilly pillows. It might get a bit cramped, but Tony can live with that. Whoever would say no to cuddling with Captain America?

“So?” Tony asks, drawing out the word as he tries to make sense of Steve’s sudden snobbishness. Surely, Steve has shared his sleeping space before, at the very least during his time in the army.

“You’re a millionaire,” Steve replies shortly, poking a finger at Tony’s chest, “which you never let us forget, so fix this.”

Still not quite catching up with what Steve is trying to tell him, Tony absentmindedly corrects, “Billionaire.”

Steve huffs. “Even better.” Turning back to the room, he makes a complicated gesture. “Do something.”

Tony is not sure what he is supposed to do. They are stuck here for the night and this is the only motel for miles around. Even with his billions in the bank, Tony has not much money on him – and no idea what he is supposed to do with it. Pay some poor family to let them into their house? Two strangers, both of which have an attitude and attract problems? He does not think so.

“It’s just for one night,” Tony says and makes a show of going farther into the room. There is not exactly much place to get away from Steve, but he steps up to the desk and lets his bag slide from his shoulder. Thanks to the Iron Man suitcase he has taken with him for emergencies, it is rather heavy.

Steve’s glare does not lessen a bit. “And I’m not going to spend it with you in _one_ bed.”

With a start, Tony realizes what Steve’s problem is. It is not the room, not the smallness of the bed, but the fact that he has to share the place with Tony. He almost laughs at himself when he feels the sharp stabbing pain in his chest. This is nothing new. In some way or other, Tony is always the problem.

All geniality drains out of Tony’s demeanour. He, too, is tired and wants this stupid mission to be over.

“You’re very welcome to go back out into the fucking snow storm and find somewhere else,” Tony snaps, searching Steve’s face for some regret for what he said. When he does not find any, his voice becomes sharper, poised to cut. “Perhaps you can build yourself an igloo and cuddle with some hobo for warmth. I’m sure that’ll be better than having to suffer my presence for a whole night.”

He whirls around abruptly, not wanting to look at Steve for a moment longer. With shaking fingers, which he blames on the lingering coldness, he rips his bag open, searching for something dry to wear.

“It’s not that –” Steve says in his back, but Tony has heard enough.

“Stop lying, Rogers,” Tony sneers, “it doesn’t become you.”

Silence falls but Tony does not take any satisfaction from it. He has not wanted to argue with Steve. Things have been so good between them lately. Getting some alone time with Steve was actually one of the reasons he agreed to Fury’s mad scheme at all. A couple days on the road without any battle or training plans they need to argue over sounded nice. Right up until now. He did not think their truce would be broken over such a stupid thing.

A quiet sigh of moving air is the only warning Tony has before Steve appears at his side.

“It’s just that we have to be fit tomorrow and that won’t happen if we keep each other awake,” Steve explains in that patient but not quite reasonable tone of his that usually succeeds very quickly in driving Tony up the wall.

“Keep each other awake how?” he barks, full of disbelief that Steve is actually trying to rationalize his reaction away. He turns towards Steve and steps closer until there is barely any space between them left. “Is the mere thought of sharing space with a man too much? Are you afraid I’m going to molest you in the middle of the night?”

“No, but –” Steve swallows and takes a step back, enough to cross his arms in front of him. That, truly, is answer enough.

“Or is it just that it’s _me_ you don’t want to spend any time with?” Tony chuckles, entirely without humour. He barely catches himself from stepping towards Steve again, but his tone is getting harsher anyway. “I’m sorry that Fury thought it wise to send the two of us to scope out that base. I’m sorry that we got snowed in in a place where the only motel has only one room _with only one bed_. I’m sorry that –”

“I have nightmares.”

Steve looks embarrassed, which registers with Tony long before the actual words do. It stops Tony’s tirade from spiralling further, leaving them to stare at each other. Or Tony stares while Steve looks somewhere at the wallpaper, doing his best to pretend he has not just admitted some very vital information.

“You have what?” Tony asks for clarification, even though they are both aware that he has understood Steve the first time.

The grip of Steve’s arms around himself tightens. Still not looking at Tony, he explains, “I don’t sleep well because of them and I don’t want to keep you up with it. You already drove most of the way. You must be exhausted.”

That, suddenly, has all remaining anger drain right out of Tony. Nightmares, it echoes in his mind. In a twisted sort of way, that makes sense. Steve is not the type to complain about inconveniences but rather suffers everything fate throws at him stoically. If sharing the bed with Tony was the main problem, he would have declared some ground rules and went to sleep with that stiff façade of his, keeping his face turned away from Tony and likely not sleeping a single minute just so he would not accidentally invade Tony’s side of the bed. He would not have drawn attention to his displeasure with such vehemence.

Coming to a decision, Tony abandons his bag and goes to push Steve towards the bed. Steve is kind enough – or tired enough – to let himself be manhandled, and soon they sit next to each other on the too hard mattress. Tony breathes slowly, in and out, trying to make sense of the chaos inside his head. He is not exactly surprised that he does not know about this, but he feels like he should have, since they are both part of the same team, and friends too.

“Why are you having nightmares?” Tony asks, then shakes his head at himself. “Wait, stupid question. Have you talked to someone about that?”

That should have been SHIELD’s first action after defrosting their newly found supersoldier instead of that farce of pretending it is still the forties. Shellshock had been something to keep quiet about back then, but PTSD is now slowly recognized for its importance. Every soldier coming home from war should get the chance to get help if it is needed. Especially one who might not know to look for help on his own and who has the added trauma of being all alone in the world – a world he does not know because it is not the one he almost died for.

Predictably, Steve gets up again and stalks back to the door. It is still open, showing the dark hallway. He does not step out, but he might as well have, considering how distant his answer is. “It’s no big deal.”

Tony rolls his eyes and makes no effort to hide it. Sometimes, people need to know when they are being stupid. “It apparently is if you think I’m not going to get any sleep if we share a room.”

“A _bed,_ ” Steve corrects tartly. Whatever fire has been in him for this short moment disappears just as quickly again. He shrugs, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not exactly loud, I _think_. But I lash out if startled.”

Steve is talking to a man who instinctively calls out for a fully weaponized metal suit even when still half-asleep to defend himself from imagined enemies. Supersoldier or not, Steve cannot pack more of a punch than the Iron Man armour.

“That’s no real difference to when you’re awake,” Tony quips, feeling the stress of needing to handle this correctly get the better of him. “Right, no time for jokes,” he mutters, then adds, louder, “I mean, _Steve_ , this is big. It’s no shame to get help these days.”

And Steve, a true child of the olden age and stubborn to boot, shakes his head. “I don’t need to bother anyone with this.”

Just barely, Tony holds in a frustrated groan. He is not the right person to talk to about this. He, after all, has refused to go to a therapist, no matter that both Pepper and Rhodey threatened him with all they got. It is good for other people, though. For people with problems that are not of their own making. Steve, contrary to Tony, is a victim.

“You wouldn’t be a bother. It would clearly be a good idea to go to a professional, but all of us would be willing to listen,” Tony says firmly. A bit quieter, he adds, “All of us know a bit about nightmares.”

Steve looks up at him in surprise, which in turn confuses Tony. Not a single one of them can boast to be a well-adjusted individual, and it shows.

Still, Steve asks, “You – you have them too?”

Unable to remain sitting, Tony gets to his feet. He wants to deflect like he always does when this topic comes up, but that would immediately negate all the effort of getting Steve to listen in the first place.

“Did you miss the fact that I’ve been held in a cave by terrorists for three months?” Tony asks, keeping his voice open but hopes that his tone discourages further questions. “And Loki’s invasion was rather nightmarish too.” He opens and closes his mouth several times, wondering what more he could say without giving too much away. A glance at Steve’s face tells him that he might not have to. “Put your bag down,” he then says softly, “take a shower.”

Where Steve’s expression has just been open, it closes off now quickly. “But I –”

“I heard you concerns,” Tony cuts him off. “Consider me warned. But we’re not getting another room tonight.”

Time drags as they look at each other, neither willing to back down. Tony is feverishly trying to think of other things to say, because the only other thing they could do is for him to take the suit and fly out of the storm, which would defy the very definition of an undercover mission. Even in the storm, someone is bound to notice Iron Man.

Finally, Steve’s shoulders sag. Before Tony can celebrate his victory, though, Steve says, “I’ll sleep on the ground then.”

“Like hell you will.” Tony throws his arms up in frustration. They always take at least one step back for every step they take forward. He is not going to let Steve sleep on the floor after the day they had, after _any_ day. “You’re not going to rob me of my chance to tell my grandchildren that I once slept with Captain America. I hope you’re still considered cool then.”

Tony is convinced this will not work. There is no good reason it should. Steve is afraid of his nightmares, and Tony making tasteless jokes will not make any of that better. Steve stares at the ground between them before looking back up at Tony. Finally, with a last desperate glance at the bed, Steve nods. It is a hesitant thing, as easy to take back as it is given, but Steve is not one to break his word thoughtlessly.

“I’ll even take the side facing the door,” Tony says quickly, desperate to use this door of opportunity before it closes again. “So I can flee more quickly if I get scared.”

“Stop joking,” Steve chides but Tony is sure that his lips twitch the slightest bit, before he turns serious again. “At the first sign of a nightmare, you get out of the bed and wake me with some distance between us.”

The rather inappropriate picture of Tony poking Steve with the curtain pole while shielding himself with the bathroom door pops up in his head. With some effort, Tony keeps his lips from smiling.

“I don’t –” he protests out of habit, but does not come any farther.

“Your word, Tony,” Steve says firmly, brooking no further argument. “Or I _will_ go and build that igloo instead.”

This time, Tony cannot help but laugh. He raises his hands in defeat. “All right, you win.” An idea strikes his mind and he gets his phone out of his picket. “I’ll have JARVIS monitor your sleep patterns, even if I don’t think you will be a danger to me. He’ll wake us up if there is something to worry about.”

He should have thought of that sooner. At home, JARVIS wakes him at the slightest sign of distress, which was the only way he even allowed himself to go to bed during the worst times, after Afghanistan or Obie ripping the arc reactor out of his chest or his little trip through Loki’s portal.

Steve looks hesitant, eyeing the phone in Tony’s hand with trepidation. It must still be strange to trust a piece of technology, not knowing how it works. In the end, he just shrugs, apparently trusting that Tony knows what he is doing.

A strange feeling wells up inside Tony’s stomach at that that he is not sure he wants to analyse. Instead, he does what he can do best and deflects with another joke.

“But, I warn you, don’t strangle me on purpose if I start cuddling you,” Tony says, not mentioning that this is a real possibility. “Pepper says I’m a cuddler.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When Steve still looks uncertain despite having agreed already, Tony walks over to him, slowly but with intent. He thinks it is a good sign that Steve does not evade him. Reaching up, Tony pulls the strap of Steve’s bag over his shoulder and sets it down next to his own.

“Shower,” Tony orders gently and pushes Steve in the direction of the bathroom. “And then you can warm up the bed for us, I don’t know how you can still be so hot with all the snow outside.”

With a sigh, Steve searches his bag for his bedclothes and his toilet bag. Right before he vanishes into the bathroom, he says, “Don’t you dare take the side facing the window. If you’re asleep when I come back, I’ll push you out.”

Unable to help himself, Tony laughs. Most of that is due to relief at having averted what might have easily turned into a crisis. When he tells that story to his grandchildren, he will certainly edit out the parts where he had to convince Captain America with all his might that sharing the bed would not end in one Tony Stark-shaped corpse. A little subterfuge will make this far more interesting. Until then, though, he will do his best to enjoy their night together after all.

Maybe he will call ahead to their next hotel to make sure they only have rooms with one bed available too.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'm going to write a real 'only one bed trope' fic with an actual relationship. Today was not that day.  
> I hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
